


Knives and Kisses

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mizumono, Nothing abnormal really, Sadness, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:39:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Hannibal had kissed Will during the season 2 finale?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knives and Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ofalarger-infinity](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ofalarger-infinity).



“You…were _supposed_ …to _leave_.”

Cold clung to Will Graham’s coat and curls as he considered the man in front of him with saucer-sized eyes and an endless stream of screams desperate to be set free from the confines of his throat.

Hannibal Lecter blinked once, surveying the sopping man in return.

“We couldn’t leave without you.”

All those suits, all those airs and graces that Hannibal had worn day in and day out—they were but illusions, costumes conjured to cover up the creature that lay within. He had killed— _oh,_ how he had killed!—and yet still bore himself with the utmost grace. Evidence of his sins (courtesy of Jack Crawford’s neck wound, no doubt) was splattered across his shoulder and crept up, up, until it began to congeal almost prettily on his upper lip.

He was terrifying, and _by God_ , it was beautiful.  

Will tried to swallow the shock he knew was apparent on his features and took a hesitant step forward. He had the irresistible urge to be closer to this man, this _thing_. He wanted to reach out and touch him, feel the contours of his cheeks and know that this is not an apparition sent to him in the dead of night by some cruel dream.

Hannibal inhaled, a shaky heave of his lungs thing that bled into a heavy sigh. His left hand, rough and riddled with arterial spray, reached forward and brushed the side of Will’s face, pinky flirting with the curve of his stubbled jaw.

 _I need to leave,_ Will thought as he leaned into the touch, _this man is a killer and a cannibal and I need to leave right now_.

Will didn’t move.

But Hannibal did.

A pause, a single beat of silence in the song of life, and then Hannibal Lecter was kissing Will Graham full on the mouth with the gentle tenderness of a first-time lover. The world was reduced to a slurry of warmth and flesh, and they themselves were reduced as well—the outer shell of their lives cracked and discarded until all that was left were two souls clashing and crashing in the sweetest of ways.

 _I could love him_ , Will thought as he partook of the murderer against his lips, _and I could let him love me back. I could—_

Because fate is cruel and life is despicably unfair, Will Graham fell in love with a serial killer. For the same reasons, he did not notice the glittering wink of a curved blade in Hannibal’s hand, nor was he fast enough to stop the knife from being thrust into his lower stomach.

_No, no, no._

_This can’t happen._

Hannibal’s eyes held such sadness, such scorn, and that was infinitely more frightening for Will than having a knife in his belly. A stomach wound, he could survive—Hannibal’s wrath? There was no chance.

And then, the pain.

Oh, the _pain._

It was difficult to concentrate on anything else when every nerve in his body was alight and singing with the sharp plucks of agony that played a shrill sonata in his stomach. With a maestro’s precision, Hannibal further dragged the blade across his stomach, and with the blood that cascaded down his front, so was a strangled groan ripped from Will’s throat.

That’s when Will’s legs gave out.

Hannibal kept him upright, held in a mockery of an intimate embrace, and Will scrambled to keep himself from falling to the floor just yet. He was going to fight this— _dammit_ , he wouldn’t go down easily.

“Time did reverse,” Hannibal rasped against his ear, “The teacup that I shattered did come back together. A place was made for Abigail in your world. You understand? A place was made for all of us. Together.”

_You and I._

_We could’ve been together._

_We could’ve had a family._

Hannibal pulled Will away and held his face between bloody fingers. The room was spinning, and Will could feel his skin lose color as blood continued to fall to the floor like rain. He wasn’t supposed to die like this, not _here_ , not because of _him…_

_How could I let him win?_

“I wanted to surprise you,” Hannibal might have smiled, had the situation been different, had Will been _anyone_ but Will, “And you…you wanted to surprise me.”

He let go, and Will crumpled to the floor immediately.   He could taste the anger, the hatred that radiated off of Hannibal’s skin and it soured his stomach—well, what was left of it, anyways. The blade was still in Hannibal’s hand, only now it drip-drip-dripped cherry red with Will’s blood.

“Now that you know me…”

Hannibal leaned in towards Will with heavy, sad eyes and shoulders slightly hunched. Perhaps Hannibal hadn’t won at all. Perhaps Hannibal had _lost,_ too.

“ _See me_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Tumblr user ofalarger-infinity for the commission and the lovely prompt! I had a lot of fun writing this :)
> 
> As always, you can hit me up at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com
> 
> <3


End file.
